


Holmes For Cats

by LiveAndLetLive



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Annoyed John Watson, Cats, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Sherlock Holmes is a Bit Not Good, Sherlock-Style Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 12:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17407253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveAndLetLive/pseuds/LiveAndLetLive
Summary: "I'm sorry, but... Sherlock, what is that supposed to be?""She's obviously a cat, John."(A story demonstrating the crap John has to put up with).





	Holmes For Cats

As John poured the hot water into his cup, a disheveled detective shuffled out of his room, dressing gown hanging just off his shoulders and curls flattened on the left side of his head.

"Had a good sleep?" John smirked, his smile widening at the disinterested grunt in reply. Just as he was pouring the milk, a black feline with bright green eyes gracefully wandered out of Sherlock's room and followed him to the couch. The milk carton fell from his hand to the floor and sent milk gushing everywhere. He was stood frozen whilst trying to process what he was currently looking at.

"No wonder we keep running out of milk." Sherlock muttered, eyes closed as he stroked the cat perched happily on his lap. When John had recovered enough, he began his search for answers. 

"I'm sorry, but... Sherlock, what is that supposed to be?"

"She's obviously a cat, John"

"Yes, I can see that but what is it doing _here_?"

"Bonny's going to be living with us." Sherlock replied as if in conversation with a child.

"O-okay. For a case, though, right?" John asked, hoping that thing was only temporary.

"Of course not." Sherlock scolded, opening his eyes and frowning at John as if insulted by the proposition. "As a family pet." Obviously deciding that he was finished with the conversation, he picked Bonny up and stomped towards his bedroom muttering "We'll be in my room should you need us." John bent down with some paper towels, trying to soak up the milk off of the floorboards. All he wanted was a bloody cup of tea.

 

Sherlock hadn't come back out from his room for three hours; John hoped to God that Sherlock wasn't experimenting on the poor cat. Finishing the last sentence on his blog, he was startled by the door being suddenly thrust open. Sherlock strode across the room and back to the couch again. He lay across it, just barely fitting his lanky body onto it, and stared up at the ceiling. His cat, once again, waddled out of his room and headed for the kitchen, presumably interested by the remnants of the spilled milk. Once finished with that, it stalked off towards Sherlock's music stand, running the fur on its back along it, marking it with her scent.

Sherlock decided to break the silence. "She's named after Anne Bonny, a famous pirate. I thought it was quite suitable, don't you agree?"

"If you like." John replied, disinterested in this little fact. He was too distracted by how Bonny had climbed the stairs towards John's room and came back with something in her mouth.

"Do you not like her?" Sherlock questioned, obviously not caring about his opinion.

"While you take the time to mull that one over, Bonny the bloody Pirate is eating my bloody socks." John cursed, already exasperated. Sherlock turned his head towards her and called her name nonchalantly. Her green eyes squinted at him before she dropped the socks from her mouth and padded off, back into his bedroom.

"It's incredibly concerning how a cat's more obedient than you are." John remarked, even more annoyed by Sherlock's hum of agreement.

 

At dinner time, John set the two plates of spaghetti down onto the kitchen table. It was the only proper meal Sherlock had the time for. "Sherlock!" he called, already jabbing his fork into a meatball. John's eyes moved up from his food to see Sherlock holding Bonny around her middle, looking very pleased to be constantly carried around, before he sat down in the chair opposite John. Time for him to draw the much needed line.

"Absolutely not, Sherlock. No cats at the dinner table." He said, not looking up from his plate. It was a command with no space for movement.

"I don't understand why not: she's a well-behaved cat. She'll just be sitting on my lap." Sherlock defended with a frown that caused a little crease to bloom between his eyebrows.

"Because you barely eat anything. When you finally do eat, I'm not letting one of those things be cat hair. That's just disgusting." John noticed Sherlock's frown deepen at the word "disgusting" before setting her down on the floor, muttering something or other about her being a short-haired cat. Sherlock smirked however when Bonny started to rub her fur against John's leg, marking him like she did to Sherlock's music stand. In John's mind, she knew exactly what she was doing and couldn't be anymore like Sherlock if she tried.

 

At eight o'clock, Sherlock was tying his scarf around his neck and slipping his coat on. John stared with a raised eyebrow, to which Sherlock responded with a "I'm going out. Keep an eye on Bonny." then leaving before John could object. When he was certain Sherlock had left, he put his laptop down, got up and started looking around for her, even in Sherlock's room. He couldn't see her anywhere.

Returning back to his laptop, having quickly given up the search, he found Bonny sitting in his chair, squinting her eyes at him as if daring him to do something about it. As she stared, John was all too happy to stare back until he realized he was glaring at a _cat_. 

This flat was turning him mad.

 

John was woken by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. He was more awake than ever when he realized that Bonny was sitting on his lap. He was not about to be caught cuddling Sherlock's cat so he picked her up and set her down on the floor, dusting the hair off his trousers just in time for Sherlock to walk in.

"Where were you?" John asked, desperate to take the attention off of himself.

"I went to the shops to buy some cat food." Sherlock punctuated his sentence by shaking the box in his hand.

"Oh, okay then. Did you at least do the shopping while you were there?"

"Why would I? That's your little job."

"My li-" John couldn't even repeat what he had just heard. Did Sherlock think he _enjoyed_ doing the shopping? He couldn't decide what was worse: Sherlock's lack of appreciation or that he would willingly choose his cat over John when it came to actually doing the shopping for once. Before John said anything unkind, he grumbled an "I'll be in my room" through gritted teeth and tried not to slam his bedroom door behind him.

 

John only had about five minutes to calm down before he heard two, soft, hesitant knocks. When John didn't answer, Sherlock just let himself in.

After he stood there awkwardly for a moment, Sherlock spoke. "John, I apologize for earlier. That was... a bit not good. I was just wondering... um... why you resent Bonny so much." John sighed, reluctant to go over this. "Because when I was little, Harry's cat always used to scratch me. She found it funny. It was _hilarious_ apparently."

Sherlock seemed to go over this intently in his head before speaking. "Usually on the basis that Bonny and Harry's cat are not the same cat, I would call your resentment irrational. However, I understand that it is socially required of me to say... I'm sorry to hear that. Does that... make you feel better?" It was a genuine question. At least he was trying. "Yes, thank you." John replied, his mood actually improved. "Would you like to pet her? Maybe you'll come to an unlikely conclusion." Sherlock suggested, knowing this was a risky question. 

"Maybe tomorrow, yeah?" John really hated cats, they were the last thing he would think of showing affection towards. His thoughts came to a sudden halt as he saw the look of hurt momentarily on Sherlock's face, before it was shoved back behind his emotionless mask. After giving a single stern nod, he twisted on his heel and walked out the room. 

"Don't do it." John quietly repeated to himself when Sherlock had left. Damn him and his guilt.

"Sherlock." He called hesitantly. John was slightly annoyed that Sherlock came straight back in with Bonny in his arms. Was John really that predictable? Sherlock sat on the side of John's bed with a soft expression before gently holding her out to him. Suddenly nervous, he looked to Sherlock for reassurance. "She isn't threatened or particularly playful so it's highly unlikely you'll get scratched." Sherlock offered. 

John nodded before slowly raising his fingers to her nose. A few sniffs later, deeming him suitable enough, she brushed her forehead against his hand. 

John smiled at the low and satisfied purr that erupted from her chest. Sherlock smiled at the little relieved grin on John's face. Bonny just loved the attention she was getting.

After a few moments of silence, John looked up at Sherlock and smiled as he said "You owe me some milk."


End file.
